


A Birthday By Myself

by B_Uthoughtwrong



Series: Behind The Mask Is A Man [7]
Category: Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Kinda angsty but then fluffy, Mostly backgrounding tbh, Not much dialouge, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-10
Updated: 2017-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-08 10:54:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12252894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/B_Uthoughtwrong/pseuds/B_Uthoughtwrong
Summary: Matt never really found a reason to celebrate his birthday. I mean, so what, he's a year older? But seeing it'sherbirthday, and howshewasn't here, he celebrates the day in her absense with deep thought.





	A Birthday By Myself

**Author's Note:**

> In honor of my birthday coming up, i did this kinda sad fic that is probs loaded with typos  
> Sorry about that  
> ~laughs in a misleading sort of way~

  _"No one wants to be alone."_

Matthew sat on the couch holding string on a helium balloon. He didn't want everything to be like this; he didn't want to _have to_ celebrate a birthday; lord knows how long it's been since he celebrated his own. And I mean there was nothing wrong with being alone, he established that within himself a very long time ago for the sake of his sanity, Nonetheless, he remembers it well, _his last celebrated birthday,_ and it pushes his heart down against his lungs when his mind flashes back at the memory.

He was nine at the time, he was sure of it because he remembers the eight candles spiraled around his cake, leading to the waxen cynosure shaped like a nine and he remembers his dad blowing them out just to annoy him. Matthew didn't mind, his dad after all was just showing his affection in this not too affectionate way. His dad was still _Battlin'_ Jack Murdock then, but not too much of it yet that they still got to celebrate his birthday out like they did. It was a much simpler time then, his dad had friends and so did he. He remembers getting a leather jacket with plastic spikes on the shoulder from their tattooed, motorcycle cycle gang member-neighbor, Drew Elijah. Matt thought he was the second coolest person in the world, (his dad obviously being first) especially because he made awesome baked goods (he had made his birthday cake). That neighbor of their's also owned a bakeshop downtown which was now an expensive one that sold bread and pastries nation wide. Matthew didn't buy there anymore, it tasted nothing like what his uncle Drew used to make. It lacked the heart, and it tasted more like moist cardboard and sugary lard.

He sighed and listened to the streets for a moment, allowing himself to be preoccupied with the fact he was going to celebrate this birthday, that _was not_ even his own, by himself. Why celebrate it, you may ask? Well, for starters, _it was the birthday of the woman he loved_. _Secondly, she_ wasn't _here_ to celebrate it with him.

He gulped and felt his fingers threaten to release the string entwined in them at the thought of that. He was worried that maybe the balloon had read anything but _Happy Birthday._ He entrusted that the giggling child hadn't lied to him when he asked if he could read at all. Well, _he wasn't_ but he still somehow felt that maybe he had bought the wrong one. He huffed at the disappointing thought. She liked balloons; amongst chocolate and kisses, it was one of her favorite things-- and how she would then proceed to burst into the song. He laughed bitterly at the thought. Why did she, out of all the days in the world, have to be absent on _her_ day, her day of birth? Did the world always have to be so cynical and blatantly ironic?

Matthew blamed himself particularly; he firmly believes that if he had worked hard enough, she'd be lazily wrapped around his arms right now and be giving him _literal_ chocolate cake flavored, (he bought a chocolate cake with not a single intention of eating it) sweet, kisses.

Though in truth, as he got older, he never understood what all the fuss about. How was acquiring wrinkles and white hair worth celebrating? But that was before she came along and he realized how much beauty and how much value a single life could possess, how it was only rightful to celebrate the existence of one such as important and valid as hers. But then again, what was the point of it if she was not here?

_She wasn't here._

He shot up from where he sat and huffed as he paced around. He decided he needed to punch something to get this out of his system, he decided a broken nose might satiate him for now. He halted abruptly and sighed in defeat. He shut his eyes and felt that he was tired. He was tried of waiting up; the more tired, he got the louder and the more vexing the world got.

 

 _Five more minutes_ , his mind reasoned out.

He laughed at himself even thinking the thought but agreed with his subconsciousness, sitting back down on the sofa he was once seated before having a mild fit of frustration. It _was_ stupid though, because it wasn't like she was going to magically come around. But just as this thought came to mind his senses were assaulted with a vivid and treacherous scent of her. He idly huffed at it, knowing it was next to stupid to let himself believe it was true. _A nap_ , he should get a nap, he told himself.

_"Matty?"_

What the _fuck._ He sat up from the sofa he had been then lying on and inhaled what was, in fact her scent. Holy _shit,_ it _was_ her. A being then waltz in holding paper bags and a smile, followed by a gasp of surprise. "Aww, this is all for me?"

He smiled softly and stood up where he stood, "Who else would it be for? But, uh... I thought you weren't gonna show."

She placed her items down and knit her brows, "Why would you think that?"

 _Well... his heightened senses where making him over think and be melodramatic again..._ "For starters, your job and co-workers always steal you away from me. I thought they were going to steal you away from me tonight as well, which was why I hadn't put my hopes way up there."

She laughed the way she always beautifully did, "Aww, my jealous drama queen," she stalked over to me then wrapped her hands behind my neck, "do you honestly think I would rather spend my birthday with a bunch of snobs rather than my _best boyfriend."_

 _Point taken,_ plus he _was_ making it look like she was dead, thus the inability to her to come, which is entirely wrong and stupid; do you honestly believe the Daredevil would let his girlfriend get killed? He chuckled softly at his thought and her words, _"Best?_ You mean there's _better_ and _good_  boyfriend? How many boyfriends do you have?" Her stomach bubbled in chuckles. Matt positioned his hands on her hips, one hand still entangled in balloon string. "I have a hundred boyfriends, boy, so don't think you're too special." She then cupped his face and planted a kiss on his lips, stubble pressing against her skin. She groaned, "I hate your whiskers so much."

He kissed her jaw with a soft laugh, "Now, now, you've lied to me twice in a row now."

"Mmm, want me to tell you another one?" He felt his glasses get removed off him and he blinked in expectation. She wore the glasses and pursed her lips, _"I hate you."_

His lips involuntarily curled up, _"I love you too."_


End file.
